


Supernova

by DarkQueenSigyn



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Newt Scamander, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Modern AU, Non-magical AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Rockstar AU, Songs, Warnings May Change, lots of songs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-25 20:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16668133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkQueenSigyn/pseuds/DarkQueenSigyn
Summary: Newt Scamander is an established country-rock star, well-known for both his quirks and his unique style spanning multiple genres. However, his star is beginning to fade: though he is loved by his fans, his appeal with the general public continues to struggle. Credence Barebone is a young twenty-something, stuck in a dead-end job and living with an abusive, overbearing mother. In spite of this, he has big dreams of becoming a musician, and has talent as a singer and songwriter unlike any other. When the two of them meet by chance and forge an instant connection, both of their lives change forever...but is fame really all it's cracked up to be?(Modern AU, loosely inspired by the 2018 film A Star Is Born)





	1. Chapter One

MAC-USA Stadium. One of the biggest concert venues in New York. At capacity, it would hold over five thousand people. 

 

That night, it was anticipated to be a sold-out show. The crew was hard at work; setting up lights, rigging up tech systems, conducting test after test to make sure every beat of the show went off without a hitch.

 

All surrounding just one person.

 

Newt Scamander was far away from the stage that awaited him, seated alone in one corner of the dressing room. Hunched over an acoustic guitar, he plucked at the strings; conducting tests of his own. Each chord he strummed reverberated through his body and filled up his head, and in that moment there was nothing else in the world but him and his guitar.

 

That was the feeling he created and carried with him, like a protective shield. No matter how many shows he played, the immediate preamble felt like it was his very first solo performance all over again. The nerves, the fear, the hours and hours of practice, the pre-show rituals. Yet every time, it would all fall away the moment he stepped out onstage.

 

The stage was the only place where he truly came out of his shell, no matter how many people were watching him. Newt seemed entirely unaware of his own stage presence, though it was apparent to anyone who had the pleasure of watching him perform.

 

Even on his own, he played the chords of songs he had played hundreds of times, so often that their notes were engraved into his bones, their lyrics painted on the walls of his mind. The more he played, the more his nerves began to settle.

 

And yet that night, something tugged on the back of his mind that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

 

_ Tell me something good… _

 

For the briefest moment, his hands toyed with the strings, playing new combinations of notes to see how they sounded.

 

Newt hadn’t written a new song in years. He thought he’d lost his touch for it; and after all, people had long since stopped expecting new material from him anyhow. Furthermore, one lyric alone did not a song make.

 

But he would remember it, just in case anything came of it.

 

He was quick to distract himself, strumming out the opening chords to an old favorite and humming along under his breath. If he thought too much about writing something new, it would quickly become the only thing he could think about.

 

He was almost grateful for the knock at the door, and he knew without looking up who it was; even before the door was pushed open just slightly.

 

“Hey,” came the greeting, and Newt finally lifted his head to look towards the doorway. His manager, his loyal right hand, was a commanding presence, even as she was partially obscured from view. Dressed for business, certainly, with her dark hair swept back from her face; though her single, dangling earring gave away that her world was that of rock stars.

 

“You ready?” Tina asked as she peered into the room, giving Newt a careful once-over. 

 

With a slight smile, Newt set his practice guitar aside and got to his feet, a little more of a spring in his step than usual. 

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied. His heart was pounding and one hand tapped his knuckles lightly but insistently against his opposite palm, but there was a sparkle in his green eyes that Tina recognized instantly.

 

“Then let’s go,” she said, nodding her head towards the hallway. Newt was quick to follow her lead, falling into step alongside her. 

 

On paper, the atmosphere of being on stage, under bright stage lights, with the roar of thousands of people and music blaring through industry-level speakers was, frankly, overwhelming for someone like Newt. Thankfully, he was not the sort of man to give up on anything too easily.

 

As he walked next to Tina, Newt reached up to the noise-cancelling headphones that hung around his neck, pushing them up so that they covered his ears; without disturbing the broad Stetson cowboy hat atop his head. They muffled the sound of the speakers and the crowd to a more tolerable level for him. It drove the tech crew crazy as it meant he couldn’t wear an earpiece, but as Tina assured everyone who brought up the issue, Newt was so in tune with his music that he didn’t need one.

 

Once that was done, Tina handed Newt his sunglasses, and he slipped them on. He often worried about them getting lost or broken, and they were always safe with Tina. The glasses had become something of his staple, along with the Stetson hat, quite by accident. He used them to help his eyes adjust to the stage lights, usually during the first half of his shows. They seemed to directly conflict with the rest of his country-rock appearance, but they were functional, rather than for aesthetic purposes.

 

Besides, a huge part of Newt’s aesthetic -- if indeed he had one -- was not belonging to any one particular genre.

 

As they neared the stage, Newt’s nerves were gradually becoming a distant hum in the back of his mind, as they were slowly but surely overtaken entirely with the sheer excitement and thrill that came with performing. As he and Tina came to a stop in the allotted spot, waiting for his cue to go on stage, Newt bounced a little bit on the balls of his feet. It made Tina smile.

 

She loved seeing him like this. It was like he became someone totally different when he was onstage, and yet he was still unequivocally Newt. Just a Newt that was more confident, steady, and outgoing than he ever was otherwise; coping mechanisms and all.

 

Newt was handed one of his guitars; electric, glistening red and white. Newt handled it with care and almost reverence, checking that it was still tuned the way he had prepared it as he slung it across his body. On show days, the one thing most commonly found in Newt’s pockets was guitar picks. He must have gone through dozens of them, sometimes in a single show.

 

He could barely hear any of the various goings-on all around him, he tuned them out. He focused only on the moment, on what was right in front of him. He was fully aware when the lights changed, and Tina gently squeezed his shoulder and said “Go get ‘em, tiger!” just loud enough for him to hear her.

 

When he stepped out onto that stage, in front of over five thousand people all cheering and chanting his name, it was electric. Every part of him collectively remembered exactly what to do, everything he had done hundreds of times before.

 

Pick in hand, he wasted no time. The best way to warm up a crowd, he had discovered, was to play his usual opener: a cover, sure, but a significant one. The very first song he had ever played live.

 

The first chords he played sent the crowd into a near frenzy. His fingers danced along the strings, the motion the most natural thing in the world to him. He and the guitar seemed to work as one as he made his way up to the front of the stage, where the microphone was awaiting him.

 

_ "Here come old flat top, he come _

 

_ Groovin up slowly, he got _

 

_ Joo-joo eyeballs, he one _

 

_ Holy roller, he got _

 

_ Hair down to his knee _

 

_ Got to be a joker _

 

_ He just do what he please, yeah” _

 

His singing seemed almost effortless, and yet at the same time it was clear that he poured his soul into both his playing and his singing. His whole body completely in tune with the song, as he threw in a bit of his own flair to his guitar playing. Tina liked to call it ‘showing off,’ though she knew Newt didn’t do it to get any sort of reaction out of the audience. It was a sign that he was purely having fun.

 

_ “Come together _

 

_ Right now…” _

 

~

 

_ “Over me…” _

 

Credence sang softly, almost absentmindedly, as he walked. Backpack over his shoulder, earbuds in, he seemed to be off in his own little world; though he was still very conscious and aware of where he was going. 

 

He hummed along to the instrumental bit of the song; however quietly, he was encouraged by the fact that there was no one around that could have heard him. 

 

Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was nearly spooked clean out of his skin as he sense someone walking up behind him.

 

“Hey, Credence, wait up!”

 

He pulled one earbud out as he turned, and was immensely relieved to see the round, warm face of his best friend.

 

“Nags, you scared the life out of me,” he told her, smiling in spite of himself. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

 

“Sorry,” Nagini said, giving him a sheepish grin of her own. “You still coming out to Pig’s later tonight?”

 

“Planning on it,” Credence answered, though there was an air of uncertainty in his voice. “Just...a matter of whether or not I can get past Mom.”

 

Nagini winced. “Fair enough,” she conceded. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”

 

“Positive,” Credence said with a nod. While there was strength in numbers, he didn’t want Nagini anywhere near his adoptive mother. It was going to be hard enough keeping another secret from Mary Lou, he couldn’t run the risk of losing his best (and only) friend in the process.

 

Nagini’s expression softened. “Credence, if you ever need anything…”

 

“I’m okay,” Credence cut her off quickly, giving her a smile that at least appeared genuine to reassure her. “Thanks, though.”

 

“If you’re sure.” Nagini smiled back at him, and there was sympathy in her gaze. 

 

Credence’s smile quickly widened into a real one. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, starting to continue on his journey.

 

“Hey, before you go,” Nagini called after him. “Can you at least tell me what you’re gonna sing?”

 

For a moment Credence turned back towards her, walking backwards and holding a finger up to his lips, before he turned away again and gradually grew smaller in the distance.

 

Nagini shook her head, albeit with a fond smile on her face. She and Credence had been friends and coworkers for over a year, and she had come to see him like her surrogate little brother. She knew all too well that if there was something he wasn’t telling her, he usually had a valid reason why.

 

Credence’s world was fairly small. He lived a block away from the movie theatre where he and Nagini both worked, and two blocks away from the Blind Pig, the club where Nagini often performed during their open mic nights, and Credence would go to watch and support her. He didn’t often go anywhere else, even in his free time. The only place that he could really, truly be alone with his thoughts was his room at home, while Mary Lou was working and his twelve-year-old sister Modesty was at school or otherwise occupied.

 

Tonight, that changed. He wasn’t going home that night, because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t leave it again until his shift the next day.

 

There was a library on the corner between his house and the theatre, and that was where he stopped. 

 

It was late enough in the evening that there weren’t very many other people there. He ducked into the least populated corner he could find and sat down, placing his backpack down beside him.

 

It took a few moments, and several deep breaths, before he could pull out his phone and call his mother.

 

_ Ring. _

 

His heart was in his throat. If he botched up this lie, it would end incredibly badly for him.

 

_ Ring. _

 

Yet, if he managed to convince her...it would make a world of difference.

 

“Hello, Credence.”

 

The sound of her voice nearly spooked him again.

 

“Hey, Mom, it’s me,” Credence murmured into the phone, keeping his voice down. He was hunched down where he was sitting, trying to make himself as small as possible; even when she couldn’t actually see him. “Sorry, but, um...Mr. Skender asked me to work late again tonight.”

 

A pause. 

 

“Okay,” Mary Lou responded. “Until when?”

 

“Uh, around midnight,” Credence answered, and he surprised himself with how easily the next lie came out. “...Is that okay?”

 

“He’s your boss, Credence,” Mary Lou said. “Do what you must. Besides, you need the extra hours anyway.”

 

“Right, yeah,” Credence agreed. “Absolutely.”

 

Credence felt the weight start to lift off of his shoulders. She believed him.

 

“Be careful on your way home, okay?” Mary Lou added.

 

“I will.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Mom.”

 

Just like that, the call was over. He had gotten the hardest part out of the way, and it had been relatively painless.

 

Still, as he lowered his phone away from his ear, Credence nearly crumbled completely. His head nearly touched his knees as he folded in on himself, hands shaking as he tried to catch his breath. 

 

He wasn’t in the clear until after the night was over. Maybe not even then.

 

If word got back to his mother what he was actually doing that night...he didn’t want to think about it.

 

And yet, there was something so liberating about having this moment of freedom.

 

Once he’d managed to calm himself down enough, he tucked his phone away and reached into his backpack, producing a leather-bound notebook. 

 

He kept everything in his notebook: his inner thoughts and feelings, to small pieces of artwork he scribbled out when he was particularly emotional, but most of all...song lyrics. Lyrics that he had written himself.

 

Lyrics that would never see the light of day.

 

Whenever Credence got a line in his head, or a piece of a tune, he would write it in his notebook to make sure he didn’t forget it.

 

He had been turning a chorus over and over in his head for a few days now, keeping a record of its development. There were no verses around it, just this one refrain that had come to him in bits and pieces; from the emotions that had run through his head as he struggled between wanting to keep his mother happy, and wanting more than anything to be a musician. To be himself.

 

He read what he had already written, hearing the notes in his head and replaying the thoughts that had inspired them.

 

_ I’m off the deep end _

 

If his mother ever found out where his true passions lay, she would think he was crazy.

 

_ Watch as I dive in _

 

That part of him that wanted to let go of his fear of his mother, and dive straight into what he loved.

 

_ I’ll never meet the ground _

 

That feeling that he got whenever he sang, like he was flying, and nothing could touch him.

 

Now there was another thought rattling around in his mind, and for a moment he thought about how to fit it into the tune that he was gradually crafting.

 

That night was his moment, the chance that he had been waiting for to finally jump into the dreams he had been so terrified to pursue.

 

When he got it, he readied his pencil and wrote it down beneath the previous lines.

 

_ Crash through the surface _

 

He tucked his notebook and pencil away again, trying not to rack his brain too hard for where to go next. He knew the right words would come to him when the time was right, not before.

 

He couldn’t waste any more time waiting around, he’d only provide himself with opportunities to potentially chicken out of taking the plunge. So he made sure he had everything he needed, got up and left the library, starting to make his way over to the Blind Pig.

 

~

 

“Thank you so much, New York!! You are all so fantastic! Good night!”

 

Every show, they practically had to drag Newt off the stage at the end of the night. But once he did head backstage, he was a live wire. 

 

He made a beeline straight for Tina, a wide smile on his face. 

 

“You killed it out there!” Tina exclaimed, helping Newt take his headphones and sunglasses off as he handed off his guitar to one of the stage hands. 

 

“Thank you!” Newt said breathlessly, flexing and shaking out his hands as he did his best to keep his head still for her. “My, I never get tired of that.”

 

“I know,” Tina replied, smiling back at him with fondness. “Look at you, you look like you could run a marathon right now without breaking a sweat.”

 

“Oh, Tina, I could dance in the streets,” Newt agreed, taking her free hand as the two of them maneuvered out of the way of the crew. 

 

Tina couldn’t help laughing as they walked. “Now, that would be quite a sight,” she admitted. “But for right now, you have got to get back to the hotel and rest up, sir. Tomorrow’s the L.A. show, we fly out first thing in the morning.”

 

“Provided I can get any sleep,” Newt teased. 

 

As everyone else was hard at work loading everything up for transport, Tina led Newt to the back exit, where the limousine was waiting for him.

 

Tina opened the door and ushered Newt inside, where he all but collapsed onto the leather interior. 

 

“Keep an eye on him for me, Jacob,” Tina told the driver. 

 

“You got it, boss,” Jacob chuckled, giving her a mock salute. Tina smirked at him before leaning back out and shutting the side door of the limo, waving to Newt once more before they drove off.

 

Newt waved back at her, watching her disappear from sight as they pulled away. Breathing a long sigh, he removed his Stetson hat and set it on the seat beside him, combing a hand through his gingery hair.

 

“Heard you slayed it out there again,” Jacob said from the front. “Congrats, man!”

 

Newt grinned widely. “Thank you, Jacob,” he replied, with great sincerity. “Every show feels like the very first. I tell you, it’s the most bizarre thing.”

 

“Hey, you know what they say,” Jacob offered. “You know it’s true love when every time feels like the first time.”

 

Newt couldn’t help but laugh. Jacob had been Newt’s driver for years, and the two of them were the closest of friends. Tina was his trusted confidante and his right hand woman, but Jacob was someone he could talk to about virtually anything. 

 

Normally, the post-show energy would gradually wind down over the course of the limo ride back to the hotel. But this night, something was different.

 

Newt was still all keyed up. As he watched the city pass by them as they drove through the streets of New York, he could barely keep himself completely still. He was constantly drumming his fingers, knocking his hands together, shaking one of his legs. 

 

“You doing okay back there, Mr. Scamander?” Jacob asked after a long silence.

 

“In a manner of speaking,” Newt replied, trying to string together a sentence in his head that accurately conveyed what he was feeling. “I’m still a bit...restless, is all.”

 

Jacob nodded slowly, thinking he understood. He had seen Newt like this before, and he knew that Newt would inevitably crash and run out of energy after a while. But under these circumstances, he’d crash even harder if he was too keyed up to sleep when they had a seven am flight the next morning.

 

“You, uh...want to stop somewhere?” Jacob suggested. “Just for a little while, help you settle down?”

 

Newt thought about it for a moment. His gaze flickered across the street, and he caught sight of a glowing neon sign up ahead. _The Blind Pig_.

 

“Sure,” he agreed with a nod, pointing to indicate the bar. “Let’s try up there.”

 

Jacob followed Newt’s indication, and raised an eyebrow slightly at the tiny little dive bar, even as he pulled the limousine over. 

 

“Doesn’t seem like your usual scene, but I’ll take it,” he mused.

 

Newt smiled slightly. “I know,” he conceded. “But as long as I have something to drink, a spot to sit, and some good music, I think I’ll be alright.”

 


	2. Chapter Two

In a word, Credence was terrified. Wanting to perform was one thing, actually doing it was another thing entirely.

 

He sat at the vanity in the backstage dressing room, head in his hands in front of the mirror.

 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he burst out hurriedly, finally picking his head up again.

 

Nagini was by his side in an instant. “Of course you can,” she assured him. “I’ve heard you sing, you’re a powerhouse.”

 

The compliment warmed his heart, but it was clear that Credence didn’t have the same faith in his own voice. “I mean, maybe,” he replied with a shrug. “But, singing for just you isn’t the same as singing for...a lot of people, you know?”

 

“I do,” Nagini said softly, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders as she sat down beside him. “Believe it or not, I used to have really bad stage fright when I first started.”

 

“You?” Credence asked, taken aback. He’d seen Nagini perform dozens of times now, and she exuded confidence whenever she sang. 

 

“Me,” she confirmed with a nod. “I promise you, once you get through it the first time, every time after that will get easier and easier. People are going to love you, Credence.”

 

Credence seemed a bit more steady, but he was still miles away. He was silent for a long moment, and Nagini could practically see him retreating into his own head. 

 

“Hey,” she said softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shake. “Come back. What do you need?”

 

He looked over and met her eyes, then shook his head.

 

“No, it’s dumb.”

 

“It’s not dumb!” Nagini insisted. “Come on, what’s on your mind?”

 

Credence hesitated, but found solace seeing the kindness in Nagini’s eyes. 

 

“Could you, um...put some makeup on me?”

 

Realization dawned on Nagini, and then a smile spread across her face.

 

“I would love to, Credence. In fact...” She got up from the bench, going over to grab her makeup bag from the other table. “...I think I know just the look for you.”

 

Credence was relieved immediately. The makeup, he thought, would help boost his confidence the way that he needed. He would look like a different person; like a real rock star. He could wear it like a mask that would conceal his identity.

 

Nagini sat down across from him again with her bag, already taking out some black eyeliner.

 

“Now, stay very still, close your eyes, and trust me.”

 

~

 

Newt adjusted his hat as he and Jacob stepped into the bar. The Blind Pig was a small, rural type of place; dimly lit, with wood panelling on the walls and similar wooden tables and chairs dotted across the main area. Pool tables stood off to one side, furthest away from the front door.

 

Newt’s attention was immediately drawn towards the stage that stood out from the wall opposite the door, effectively in the centre of everything. Wide, circular, with an arch standing over it and some steps leading down from it. A cascade of beaded curtains streamed down from the archway, sparkling under the lights, and effectively functioning as an entrance spot for the bar’s performers.

 

The stage was easily the most brightly lit spot in the bar. When he and Jacob first walked in, there was a three-piece band playing up there, mellow folk music floating through the air. Right away, Newt had a feeling he was going to like this place.

 

Jacob, however, found his attention drawn immediately towards the bar that stood against the wall opposite from the stage. 

 

“Seems cozy,” he quipped. “Come on, let’s get some drinks.”

 

He gently steered Newt in the right direction and he followed Jacob’s lead, each of them grabbing a seat at the bar. Jacob got a Scotch, Newt went for a simple rum. 

 

For a moment, the two men sat in silence as they took their first drinks, listening to the music.

 

“Man, I love New York,” Jacob murmured, half-to himself.

 

“As do I, my friend,” Newt agreed. “I wish I were looking forward to going back to L.A.”

 

Jacob looked over at his friend. Newt had a habit of speaking his mind in the most unexpected of moments, but even this particular thought took him by surprise.

 

“Why, what’s up?” he asked.

 

“The...energy isn’t quite the same,” Newt confessed.

 

While he left it at that for the moment, Jacob had a feeling what Newt meant. L.A. was loud, bright, and there were thousands of eyes everywhere, even outside of the concert venues.On top of that, Newt knew all too well the way he was perceived by the general public.

 

His fans adored him. But everyone else...they tended to be confused and alienated by him and his unconventional style. 

 

Furthermore, Newt was a very private person. He rarely ever gave interviews unless he knew the interviewer quite well, and while he spoke candidly about his experience being on the autism spectrum, and his passion for his craft was clear, he shied away from most other topics; giving most people the impression that he had something to hide.

 

“Yeah,” Jacob conceded, nodding slowly. “I feel you, man. L.A. is overrated, anyway.” He paused, taking another sip of his drink before he spoke again. “So, what do you think you’re gonna do, once the tour’s over?”

 

Newt took a moment to think about that question. “I’m not sure, actually,” he admitted. “I’ve considered a few different options. I might go back home for a little while, to England; have some time to myself. Who knows, maybe I’ll write a book.”

 

Jacob chuckled. “Hey, you never know. It sure would surprise everybody, wouldn’t it?”

 

Newt cracked a smile of his own. “Almost as surprising as me writing a new song.”

 

Though he was still smiling, Jacob didn’t laugh. There was something about Newt’s expression, the way his gaze was fixed firmly on his glass, that gave away that the remark wasn’t just an offhanded joke.

 

“Are you…” Jacob began, shifting a little closer and lowering his voice. “Have you been writing again?”

 

Newt shrugged. “Not really,” he replied. “There’s...bits and pieces, but no skeleton yet. It’s probably nothing.”

 

Jacob’s smile widened. “Could be something, though.”

 

Finally lifting his eyes, Newt couldn’t help but return the smile. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

 

The song playing around them drew to a close, and both men looked up and turned towards the stage to join in the applause. As he turned, Newt finally noticed the woman sitting on the bar stool beside his. Wearing an imitation snakeskin jacket over a simple black dress, her jet black hair was piled atop her head in immaculate curls, a single ringlet hanging down the back of her neck. She seemed to be sneaking glances at him, her dark eyes shining even in the dim light of the bar.

 

As quickly as he had made eye contact with her, his gaze skittered away again, settling instead on the band as they took a bow at the end of their set. Still, as the applause died down, Newt knew exactly what was coming.

 

“Sorry, but...are you Newt Scamander?”

 

He glanced towards her again, his eyes settling on one of her earrings rather than directly on her eyes. He was almost certain he must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

Falling back on old defense mechanisms, he reached up to tip his hat in her direction. “I am,” he replied. “It’s the hat, isn’t it? Gives me away.”

 

She laughed softly, smiling over at him. “A little bit, yeah.” 

 

Her smile was warm, comforting. It started to set Newt a bit more at ease, assuring him that she wasn’t going to blow his cover.

 

“I’m Nagini,” she introduced herself, shifting to face him better. “It’s so cool to meet you, especially here of all places. What brings you out to our little spot?”

 

“Just passing through, really,” Newt answered.

 

“Well, your timing is perfect,” Nagini went on, a glint of excitement in her eyes. “My best friend is about to make his debut. He’s a singer, like you.”

 

Newt’s metaphorical ears perked up. “Is he?”

 

Nagini nodded enthusiastically. “He’s _very_ good.”

 

“Well, I’m certainly looking forward to hearing him,” Newt said, and meant it.

 

Almost as soon as he finished his sentence, the lights changed, and his gaze was drawn back towards the stage. The emcee was at the microphone, and his voice reverberated all throughout the room. 

 

“Coming to the stage, performing for the very first time, let’s give it up for Credence!!”

 

“Wonder if there’s a Clearwater Revival in his future,” Jacob murmured to Newt through the applause.

 

“Oh, stop,” Newt chuckled under his breath, giving him a playful nudge without looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the stage.

 

Music started to play. It wasn’t immediately clear where it was coming from; whether it was a backing track or if someone had hidden a pianist somewhere behind the stage itself. However, that thought was soon banished from Newt’s mind as the beaded curtains parted and a figure stepped through to take the stage.

 

He was silhouetted at first; backlit, bathed completely in pink and purple light as he moved up to the mike stand. Then a spotlight slowly faded up to illuminate him, and he lifted his head to face the audience.

 

Newt’s heart stopped.

 

He was all angular features; high, sharp cheekbones, and a square, even sharper jawline. Short black hair, just long enough to be pushed off to one side into a makeshift pompadour. But most striking of all were his eyes: deep chocolate brown, ringed with black eyeliner, and with a combination of black kohl and gold glitter spreading out from his eyelids to the sides of his face, like wings. There was even the slightest touch of sparkle on his rosebud mouth. The way the light hit his face cast shadows in all the right places, and made his dark eyes look like molten gold.

 

He was dressed all in white, save for the gold tunic jacket over top, looking altogether like he had just descended from on high.

 

He was beautiful.

 

Newt was already spellbound, never tearing his gaze away from Credence for a moment as he moved to the mike and began to sing.

 

_ “When you were here before _

 

_ Couldn’t look you in the eye _

 

_ You’re just like an angel _

 

_ Your skin makes me cry _

 

_ You float like a feather _

 

_ In a beautiful world _

 

_ And I wish I were special _

 

_ You’re so fuckin’ special…” _

 

The way he leaned in and sang into the microphone was akin to kissing a lover. His voice was deep, low, and most of all, full of passion. When he lifted his eyes towards the audience, that blazing intensity was still present in his eyes.

 

As the music reached a climactic point, he removed the mike from its stand in one quick motion, keeping it close as he started to make his way across the stage and down the steps, towards the audience. The spotlight followed him all the while.

 

_ “But I’m a creep _

 

_ I’m a weirdo _

 

_ What the hell am I doing here? _

 

_ I don’t belong here…” _

 

Newt’s eyes were wide as he watched Credence’s every move. The way he moved seemed to come so naturally, he could hardly believe this was apparently his very first time performing for an audience. Even more amazing, he thought, was Credence’s singing itself. His voice was strong, smooth and yet rough in the best kind of way, and he poured every piece of his soul into it. 

 

The glitter on his face and the pattern of his jacket caught the light, making him seem to shine as he gradually weaved his way through the arrangement of tables, connecting with the audience. Every eye in the room was on him.

 

_ “I don’t care if it hurts _

 

_ I wanna have control _

 

_ I want a perfect body _

 

_ I want a perfect soul _

 

_ I want you to notice _

 

_ When I’m not around _

 

_ You’re so fuckin’ special _

 

_ I wish I were special…” _

 

As he reached the end of the verse, his energy seemed to spike. He leaped up onto an empty chair and stood tall upon it, once again delivering the song’s chorus as if he were singing straight to heaven. He was completely covered in the spotlight from head to toe, and in the near darkness that surrounded the single beam he almost looked as if he were floating. 

 

The audience was captivated by him. As he gave more and more into his performance, here and there they started to applaud and cheer him on; not unlike Newt’s audience at MAC-USA. But there was something so much more intimate about this performance, in this setting.

 

Closing the chorus, he stepped down from the chair with astonishing grace, the accompaniment swelling and driving him forward. He made his way over towards the bar, the light still glued to him. 

 

The closer he got, the faster Newt’s heart pounded. He was rooted to the spot; he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the other patrons at the bar, including Jacob, all picking up their drinks; and remembering himself, he followed suit despite not knowing the reason why.

 

There was no hesitation; Credence made it look easy as he placed his free hand on the corner of the bar and pushed himself up, seated himself on the edge, and laid across the bar on his back lengthwise. The crowd’s energy built up along with us, and another flurry of cheers arose throughout the bar; louder than before.

 

Newt leaned back in surprise, his heart swooping. Jacob, too, jumped back in his seat, though he grinned widely and gave a bubble of delighted laughter. It was clear from the look on his face how impressed he was. Nagini’s hands were pressed together in front of her face, and she was smiling from ear to ear as happy tears welled up in her eyes.

 

Credence seemed completely comfortable as he  tilted his head back, eyes closed, holding up the microphone and belting out the bridge.

 

_ “She’s running out again _

 

_ She’s running out _

 

_ She’s run, run, run, run…” _

 

He held the last note, sustained it, and never faltered for an instant. He drew the note to a close with incredible control and precision, and the sound echoed through the whole room.

 

For a single moment, all was silent. Credence’s eyes fluttered open and he turned his head. Odds are he meant to look at Nagini, but ended up locking eyes with Newt instead.

 

Under different circumstances, both of them would have had the same first instinct; to immediately look away. Not this time.

 

Breathless, Newt found himself easily getting lost in Credence’s dark, soulful eyes. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

 

Credence stared back at him, and cracked a slight, almost shy smile. It was such a direct contrast to his sheer stage presence that it took Newt by surprise, and only further held his rapt attention.

 

Then the moment passed, and slowly Credence sat up again, lowering himself down from the bar. As he sang the final verse of the song, he made his way slowly through the audience again, back towards the stage. He had the entire audience in the palm of his hand, and he didn’t even know it.

 

_ “Whatever makes you happy _

 

_ Whatever you want _

 

_ You’re so fuckin’ special _

 

_ I wish I were special…” _

 

He stepped back up onto the stage to deliver the final chorus, crooning into the microphone with a sense of vulnerability that hadn’t been seen before throughout the performance.

 

_ “But I’m a creep _

 

_ I’m a weirdo _

 

_ What the hell am I doing here? _

 

_ I don’t belong here _

 

_ I don’t...belong” _

 

As his final note gradually faded, the sound of the microphone’s return to the stand was drowned out completely by the explosion of applause and cheers from the audience. The moment the song was over, Credence seemed to deflate just a little; though there was an awed smile on his face as he took one last look out at the audience.

 

“Thank you,” he said into the mike. His speaking voice was softer and less intense than his singing voice, further adding to the mystique surrounding this unique, incredibly talented young man. With one last smile towards the audience, he turned and disappeared through the beaded curtain.

 

Soon the applause died down, and was replaced with a wave of chatter. With the performance over, it was like Newt was waking up from a dream. He blinked rapidly as he came back to himself, glancing around and re-grounding himself into the present moment.

 

He glanced over and noticed that Nagini was looking at him expectantly, and it occurred to him that she had spoken, and he hadn’t heard her.

 

“I’m terribly sorry, what was that?” he asked her sheepishly.

 

“What did you think?” Nagini repeated herself, sounding hopeful.

 

Newt opened his mouth, but no words came to him. What words were there to describe what he had just witnessed? There were none. There was only emotion.

 

“I tell you what,” Jacob piped up. “That boy there? Can he ever _sing_.”

 

“I know!!” Nagini gushed, bouncing a little where she was sitting out of sheer delight.

 

Newt swallowed thickly, wheels spinning desperately in his mind. Then something clicked.

 

“Could I, uh...could I meet him?” he asked, and Nagini nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Of course!” she exclaimed, getting up from her seat. “Come on, I’ll take you backstage. I’m sure he’ll be happy to meet you, Mr. Scamander.”

 

Newt stood as well, letting the young woman take him by the arm and guide him along beside her.

 

“Hey, Newt --” Jacob began, but they were moving too swiftly. 

 

“Alright,” he mused to himself. “Guess I’ll wait here, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credence's song is, of course, Creep by Radiohead; though I was more specifically inspired by covers such as Jinkx Monsoon's, and Diego Luna's from The Book of Life.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild violence and homophobia at the end of this chapter.

Credence’s heart was racing as he returned to the dressing room. He had done it!! And just as Nagini had said, people actually liked him!

 

In truth, he had no idea what had come over him during his performance. When he sang, it was the most incredible feeling in the world for him. Maybe it was the security of the makeup, the outfit, and the hairstyle change, or maybe it was the energy coming off of the audience, but regardless, he had found a spot of confidence, and had been brave enough to channel his inner Freddie Mercury.

 

He had to take a minute to just breathe, and settle himself down. All kinds of emotions were running high within him, but the most dominant of them all was pure joy.

 

He didn’t want to let that feeling go. He dreaded the thought of having to change out of his costume, take off the makeup, comb out his hair, and return to his everyday life. To his mother.

 

But the sooner he did so, the less he would hate doing it. Taking one last deep breath, he sat down at the vanity mirror again, reaching for the makeup remover Nagini had left on the table. The look she had given him made him feel powerful and mysterious, and now he had to make sure there was no trace of it left on his face. Even the slightest speck of leftover glitter could give him away to Mary Lou, and that couldn’t happen.

 

He couldn’t even entertain the possibility.

 

~

 

“Wait right here for just a second, Mr. Scamander,” Nagini said, as she stopped them just outside the dressing room door. “I want to just let him know you’re here first.”

 

Newt nodded, understanding completely. “Of course,” he replied. “Take your time.”

 

Giving him one more smile, Nagini opened the dressing room door just a sliver and slipped through it, quickly vanishing from sight.

 

As she shut the door behind her, she turned and saw Credence hunched over where he was sitting at the vanity, scrubbing at his face with a makeup remover cloth. 

 

“Hey, now,” she said gently, quickly crossing the gap between them and sitting by his side. “Take it easy, you don’t want to hurt yourself.”

 

She reached over to very gently take hold of his hand, drawing it away from his face so she could get a better look at how he was doing. The kohl was almost entirely gone from one of his eyes, though there was still some glitter and smudged eyeliner in places. He hadn’t yet gotten to his other eye.

 

He didn’t open his eyes, even as he turned towards her.

 

“...Do you want some help?” Nagini ventured, and Credence could only nod emphatically in response.

 

Nagini smiled, even though he couldn’t see it, and took a fresh cloth to his face with practiced ease and care. For a long moment, they were both silent as she worked. She had a feeling she knew exactly what was going through his head, and she completely understood.

 

“I’ve got some great news,” she said when she finally spoke again, wiping the last of the makeup off of his face. “There’s someone here to see you.”

 

“To see me?” Credence echoed, as he carefully opened his eyes. “Who?”

 

Nagini leaned forward a little where she was sitting. “Newt Scamander.”

 

At first, Credence blinked in confusion, looking thoroughly incredulous. Then, vaguely he remembered the man he had made eye contact with at the bar during his performance. He thought he had looked familiar, but figured he must have imagined it.

 

“You mean...the singer, Newt Scamander?”

 

Nagini laughed. “I doubt there’s anybody else in the world with that name,” she joked.

 

In spite of himself, Credence cracked half a smile. It was hard to be melancholy around Nagini’s sunny personality. 

 

“But...I don’t get it, why is he here to see me?” he asked.

 

“Because he saw you perform!” Nagini said excitedly. “I’m pretty sure you blew his mind, he was speechless.”

 

Credence’s gaze flew to the floor as a blush started to rise in his face, his smile widening.

 

“...Really?”

 

“Yes!! I saw it with my own two eyes,” Nagini assured him. “But I’ll only let him in if you want to meet him.”

 

Credence considered it for only a moment. Newt Scamander, platinum-selling artist, wanted to meet him? When was anything like that ever going to happen to him again?

 

“Yeah! I mean, of course I want to meet him,” he replied, finally looking up to smile directly at Nagini. 

 

She beamed, clapping her hands together. “Great! One sec, he’s just outside.” She practically jumped to her feet, moving back to the door.

 

~

 

Newt had been lost in his own thoughts, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. He flexed each finger one right after the other, knuckles cracking a little here and there; though he seemed unaware of it. 

 

He was startled back to reality when the door opened again, and Nagini’s face appeared in the slightly-open doorway.

 

“Okay, come on in!” she said brightly, tilting her head to one side by way of invitation as she nudged the door open a little wider to let Newt step past her and into the room.

 

As Newt walked in, his eyes immediately found Credence where he sat. He had removed his gold jacket, and it hung on the back of the chair where he was sitting; leaving him just in white jeans and a white dress shirt, tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

 

Credence turned his head to look towards him. His hair was more tousled now, and without the makeup and stage lights, his features seemed a bit softer; his dark eyes more resembling that of a lost puppy than the smouldering intensity he’d exhibited on the stage. But that was hardly a bad thing. There was another side to him, one that Newt was intrigued to see.

 

As he looked over towards the star, Credence found himself taken by surprise. He had seen Newt Scamander on TV before, and of course through the dim bar lights, but in person, up close, he was...wow. Six feet tall, at least; auburn hair peeking out from beneath the broad, black Stetson cowboy hat. His face was warm and friendly, and his skin was smattered with freckles. His eyes were kind.

 

He was toe to tip the picture of a cowboy, though it was evident that his Western shirt and black trousers were perfectly tailored for him. The garments hugged his body in all the right ways, though as quickly as he had noticed such Credence stopped that thought directly in its tracks.

 

_ Lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil. _

 

Newt stopped by the door at first, not daring to impose by moving any closer just yet. For the briefest moment, he was lost as to what to say. As he had with Nagini before, he fell back on old methods by force of habit.

 

“Howdy,” he greeted him, giving him a little two-fingered salute.

 

Internally, he smacked himself. Bollocks.

 

The greeting sounded a bit odd in Newt’s lilting English accent, and it made Credence smile, setting him a bit more at ease.

 

“Howdy,” he echoed back at him. He pulled himself to his feet, stepping a little closer in order to greet Newt properly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Scamander.”

 

He extended a hand for Newt to shake, and Newt did so almost without realizing it. Credence’s hand was a cavalcade of textures; his fingers long and soft, but his knuckles and palms rough from past scars. A different kind of roughness from Newt’s guitarist hands.

 

“The honor is mine, Credence,” he replied, as he let go of his hand somewhat dazedly. “I must say, you gave a spectacular performance tonight.”

 

“Thank you.” In spite of his shyness, Credence couldn’t stop smiling. 

 

“Is this really your first time?” Newt inquired. “Performing, I mean.”

 

Credence nodded. “I mean, Nagini’s the real star,” he offered. “I’m lucky that she gave me the opportunity. She even helped me with…” He gestured vaguely around his face. “...all of that stuff.”

 

He felt as awkward as he sounded, but the fact that Newt was still smiling made him feel more comfortable laughing at himself.

 

“Well, she did an excellent job,” Newt replied. He was still looking a little too closely at Credence’s face, taking in every detail that he could. Close enough that he noticed one stray fleck of glitter that had somehow escaped Nagini’s makeup remover. “In fact, it looks like you’ve got a friend there.”

 

Credence looked confused at first, for only a moment before he realized. Before panic could set in, however, Newt spoke again.

 

“May I?”

 

It took Credence a moment to realize what exactly Newt was suggesting, but when he did he nodded simply, hoping against hope that the fluorescent lights surrounding the vanity mirror would be enough to mask the way his face started to flush.

 

Newt seemed not to notice, focusing intently as he leaned a little closer to Credence. Gently, with great case, he drew his thumb along the underside of Credence’s eyebrow, catching the last little piece of glitter that had been clinging to his skin.

 

“There you are,” Newt said with a smile, as he straightened up again. 

 

“Thanks,” was all Credence could say. Part of him wanted to look away from Newt and stare at the floor, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Newt’s face.

 

~

 

Newt had intended to continue his conversation with Credence at the bar, but that setting proved to be a tad bit too public for either one of their tastes. So instead, Newt sat with Nagini for a moment, while behind the scrim, Credence was changing out of his stage costume and back into his street clothes; which in this case consisted of his work uniform and a grey hoodie.

 

As Nagini came back into the dressing room, she carried with her an acoustic guitar she had grabbed from backstage. 

 

“Now, what have you got there?” Newt wondered aloud, already smiling in spite of himself.

 

Nagini almost looked sheepish. “I’d be remiss to have you here and not ask you to play something,” she admitted. “Even just for me and Credence.”

 

Newt’s smile widened. “In that case, I’d certainly be remiss to refuse,” he replied, happily accepting the guitar from her.

 

He took a moment just to test out the unfamiliar strings, but it didn’t take long for him to become comfortable with it. A guitar was a guitar, after all. 

 

“What should I play?” he asked.

 

“Anything you want,” Nagini said. “It’ll be a pleasure just to hear you play.”

 

Newt thought for a moment, then his fingers started to trail across the strings, the stray notes gradually becoming familiar chords. The song that came to mind wasn’t one of his own songs, but an old favorite of his.

 

Still behind the scrim, trying to come to terms with the fact that all of this was really happening, Credence listened as Newt started to sing.

 

_ “Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise _

 

_ Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies _

 

_ Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light…” _

 

As he reached the song’s chorus, Newt began to really settle into his playing, so much so that he almost didn’t notice Credence emerge from the scrim.

 

_ “And if you don’t love me now _

 

_ You will never love me again _

 

_ I can still hear you saying _

 

_ You would never break the chain” _

 

Newt glanced up then. At some point, Credence’s voice, low and soft but no less passionate, had joined his.

 

In his street clothes, Credence looked so different, and yet the same. Still strikingly beautiful, and yet someone that Newt might have, at one time, passed by on the street without a second glance. Credence knew how to keep a low profile.

 

As their eyes met again, Credence’s gaze skirted away sheepishly, but he made his way over to join them nonetheless.

 

“Wow,” Nagini breathed. “You guys sound awesome together.”

 

Newt hazarded a glance towards Credence once again, and he was still avoiding his gaze. It was about time for them to have a proper chance to talk, in private.

 

“Nagini, could you do me a favor?” he asked. “Could you check on Jacob for me? He’s my ride, I’m hoping he hasn’t had too many drinks.”

 

It was an excuse, of course. He knew Jacob was more responsible than that, but Nagini didn’t.

 

“Of course,” she agreed with a smile, and soon she was slipping out of the room.

 

Once they were alone, both men were silent for a long moment. Surprisingly enough to both of them, Credence was the one to break the silence.

 

“I love that song,” he admitted, somewhat awkwardly.

 

Newt’s expression softened. “So do I,” he agreed. “It was one of the first songs my brother taught me how to play.”

 

Credence perked up. “Your brother?”

 

Newt nodded slowly. “Theseus and I were a duo, originally,” he explained. “The Scamander Brothers Band. Not the most original name in the world, I know. He did all the singing, and I just played guitar. I was deathly shy back in those days, when I was younger. I hadn’t found my voice yet. Then Theseus found out I was writing my own songs, and he encouraged me to go solo. He even managed me, for a while.”

 

Newt sounded almost wistful, talking about his brother. There was a trace of something else behind his eyes, something melancholy, but Credence chose not to ask about it. It wasn’t his place.

 

“It’s hard to imagine you ever being shy onstage,” Credence admitted. “I mean...you’re Newt Scamander."

 

The statement made Newt laugh, however quietly, and that sad look was gone completely. 

 

“That’s the other thing I’ll never get used to,” he mused, meeting Credence’s eyes again. “Once you become ‘famous,’ everyone always calls you by your full name.”

 

“Sorry,” Credence said, almost as a reflex.

 

“Don’t be,” Newt responded, giving him a reassuring smile.

 

Somehow, that was enough to make Credence feel a little more secure. “So...what should I call you, then?” he asked, genuinely curious.

 

Newt’s smile only grew. “Just Newt will do,” he assured him.

 

Credence’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “Okay.”

 

He went quiet again for a moment, and Newt looked at him with curiosity.

 

“What about you?” he asked, and caught Credence off guard.

 

Credence shrugged. “What about me?” he echoed right back.

 

“Do you write your own songs, too?” Newt inquired with a chuckle.

 

Credence blanched, and paused for a moment before he responded.

 

“Yeah, I kind of do,” he confessed. 

 

Newt raised an eyebrow. “Kind of?”

 

“Okay, so I do,” Credence conceded. “I just...I don’t sing my own songs.”

 

“Why not?” Newt asked, without missing a beat.

 

Credence went quiet, chewing on his lower lip. “They’re too...personal,” he said. “It’s like baring a piece of your soul. You don’t know how people are going to react to it.”

 

Newt gave a nod of understanding. He could relate to that sentiment, all too well. There was always a sense of anxiety that came with giving a song he had written to the world. He had written songs about personal hardships, lost loves, the things that were most important to him. Each time, he had also felt a wave of awe and hope when each of them was inevitably received with an outpouring of love from his fans. Credence, however, didn’t have that luxury.

 

“Besides,” Credence blurted out. “I used to sing more often; when I was younger.” He was starting to let his emotions get away from him, telling Newt, who was practically a stranger, something that he hadn’t even told Nagini, his best friend. “But...my whole life, people have always told me that they like the way I sound, they just don’t like the way I look.”

 

Newt was dumbfounded. The slight edge of bitterness that had crept into Credence’s voice was heartwrenching. Not only was that sentiment cruel, it was just plain incorrect. 

 

“You?” he asked in disbelief. “Really?” He blinked in confusion. “But you’re _gorgeous_.”

 

He’d spoken his mind again, entirely without meaning to, and scrambled to explain himself away.

 

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to -- ”

 

But to his surprise, Credence was smiling. 

 

“It’s okay,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not offended. You don’t have to say that just to be nice…”

 

“No...” Newt said, setting aside the guitar and letting it lean against the vanity table beside him. “No, Credence, I mean it. I think you’re beautiful.”

 

The moment hung in the air between them, and Credence allowed the genuine compliment to really land on him. His eyelids fluttered, and he finally spoke.

 

“No one’s ever told me that before,” he said softly. “Thank you, Newt.”

 

There was a kindness, a warmth, in Newt’s eyes, and he shifted a little closer to Credence where he was sitting.

 

“Credence, would you like to take a walk with me?” he asked. 

 

Credence looked up at him again, and it felt like he was really seeing Newt, for the first time. It was implicit in the way he spoke that there was no pressure, no obligation, just a genuine question; one that could be refused without any hard feelings.

 

He had known Newt for just over an hour, maybe, and to an extent the walls that he had built in order to protect himself were still very much up and standing tall all around him. But even then, he wanted to trust Newt. He wanted to follow his kindness, his voice, the soul that he wore so openly on his sleeve.

 

The longer he stayed out that night, the more he would have to explain away and lie to his mother. Yet somehow, all thoughts of Mary Lou and the potential consequences were far from his mind. 

 

He’d been through it before. He could take it. It would be nothing compared to this one moment of happiness.

 

“Yeah,” Credence ultimately whispered, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

A smile once again spread across Newt’s face, and he was soon hopping up from the chair.

 

“Wonderful,” he breathed. “Let’s go!”

 

Grabbing up his backpack, Credence followed close on Newt’s heels as he headed for the door of the dressing room. Cautiously, he poked his head out of the door at first to make sure that the coast was clear. He spotted Jacob sitting nearby, making somewhat awkward yet friendly conversation with Nagini. 

 

After years of practice, it was easy for Jacob to spot Newt, even from a distance; and he and Nagini were quick to meet Newt and Credence in the middle.

 

“Nagini, it was absolutely lovely to meet you,” Newt said, with absolute sincerity. “I hope you won’t mind me borrowing Credence for a short while. You have my word that I’ll see to his safety.”

 

“You’d better,” Nagini said with a playful smile. “He’s one of a kind.”

 

“That he is,” Newt agreed, smiling back at her. 

 

Credence shrank down behind Newt, pointedly not acknowledging the knowing look that Nagini gave him. While she made her exit out the side door, Jacob was leading Newt and Credence back towards the front door of the building.

 

“Hey.”

 

They had nearly made their way completely past the bar when one of its patrons had spoken up. Newt and Jacob turned towards the source of the voice, while Credence merely stopped in his tracks, trying to make himself as invisible behind the other two as possible.

 

“I know you,” the man said, pointing at Newt as he rose from his bar stool. “You’re Newt Scamander.”

 

Newt nodded, politely tipping his hat to the man; looking towards his shoulder rather than at his face.

 

“I am,” he affirmed. “Have we met?”

 

“You’ve probably met my father,” the man replied, with practiced smoothness. “Harry Shaw?”

 

Recognition dawned on Newt. “Oh, that’s right,” he murmured. “Of Shaw Studios.”

 

_ The pompous, stuck-up prick. _

 

“The very same!” said Harry Shaw, Jr. “So crazy running into you, all the way out here. Say, could I grab a picture with you? Dad’s gonna love this.”

 

Newt sighed, realizing with chagrin that there was really no way out of this one.

 

“Of course,” he replied, somewhat monotonously. Before he moved in Shaw’s direction, he glanced over his shoulder to mouth an apology to Credence, subtly holding up a pair of fingers to indicate that the picture would only take a few seconds.

 

Somehow that gesture in itself, regardless of how small, was enough to give Credence just a little bit of bravery.

 

“Hey, um, do you need someone to take the picture?” he piped up, taking a step forward.

 

But when Shaw turned to him, he gave Credence a look of disdain.

 

“Lay off, you little twink,” he hissed at him. “This is between us men.” As he started to turn back towards Newt again, Credence just barely heard Shaw mutter “fucking freak” under his breath.

 

Credence didn’t think, he just reacted. Before the bristling Newt could say anything, before he was even aware of what he was doing, Credence reached out and yanked Shaw back to face him again. His fist collided with Shaw’s face, sending him sprawling across the floor.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jacob exclaimed, rushing to try and diffuse the situation. “Whoa!!”

 

In an instant, Newt all but dove over to grab ahold of Credence, all but lifting him off his feet as he hurried him out the front door of the bar, before a scene could really get started when the other patrons of the bar took notice.

 

“Uh, nothing to see here, folks! Just your average, everyday bar scuffle!” Jacob cried out, as he ran after the other two men out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Newt sings a sample of in this chapter is The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.


	4. Chapter Four

Newt and Credence tumbled into the limo, and as soon as the door was shut behind them, Jacob took off, driving them down the street. 

 

Every single one of Credence’s nerves was a live wire, and yet there was something so thrilling about the entire experience. Before that night, he never would have been brave enough to do something like that. He’d always had a short temper, but he usually had reason to show restraint. Toss everything he was feeling in a box and shove it in the back of his mind. Bottle it all up. 

 

He couldn’t help but wonder if it was Newt that made him feel strong enough to stand up for himself in such a big way.

 

He glanced over to meet Newt’s eyes, and Newt met his in return. After a moment of breathless silence, both of them dissolved into laughter. It wasn’t long before Jacob followed.

 

“You...I cannot believe...you just socked him right in the face like that!” Jacob cackled.

 

“He had it coming,” Newt chimed in. “It’s about bloody time someone hit one of the Shaws, I’m just sorry it wasn’t me.”

 

He was absolutely beaming, and Credence returned the smile with equal brightness. It took him a few moments before he realized how much his knuckles actually hurt. He said nothing about it at first, merely shaking out his hand in an attempt to ease the pain.

 

Of course, Newt noticed right away.  “Is your hand alright?”

 

And of course, Credence tried to play it off. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”

 

Newt wasn’t convinced. Without hesitating, he held out his own hand towards Credence.

 

“May I have a look?” he asked, with the same open-mindedness with which he had invited Credence to spend this time with him in the first place.

 

At first, Credence had opened his mouth as if to protest, but instead wordlessly placed his hand into Newt’s. 

 

Newt’s touch was so gentle, as he examined Credence’s hand and knuckles to survey the damage. 

 

“Oof,” he breathed softly, wincing just slightly. “It’s not too bad, but still; better get some ice on that, and soon. Is there a convenience store nearby?”

 

“Yeah, there’s one a street over from here,” Credence replied.

 

“I’m on it!” Jacob sang out, turning them off onto a side road. 

 

It didn’t take them long to find their way to the convenience store, and Jacob found the most discreet spot possible to park the limousine. 

 

“We won’t be long,” Newt told Jacob as he and Credence climbed out of the limo. 

 

“No worries, bud,” Jacob replied, though he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Can you guys kill a bit of time, actually? Might be a good idea for me to fuel up your chariot here before he head back to the hotel.”

 

Newt nodded in agreement. “You’re absolutely right, Jacob. Go right ahead, I’m sure we’ll be alright.”

 

Credence had no qualms about spending some time alone with Newt. If anything, he was looking forward to it.

 

“Oh, and one more thing, Newt?” Jacob went on, giving him pause for a moment longer. “Maybe leave the hat here this time.”

 

Newt chuckled, and gave his Stetson a twirl as he removed it from his head and placed it on the seat. “Good idea,” he agreed.

 

Seeing Newt without his trademark cowboy hat on somehow only made him more attractive in Credence’s eyes. His ginger hair stood out on end in places, despite Newt’s attempts to tame it back into place.

 

As the limousine pulled away and the two men walked into the convenience store, the shift in the atmosphere was apparent. Gone was the glamour of Newt’s rockstar lifestyle, the dream that Credence coveted deep in his heart of hearts, and it was replaced with the stark mundanity of a quick stop for groceries. 

 

Credence followed close behind Newt as he strode through the store, clearly a man on a mission. As he led Credence up and around towards the frozen section, Newt glanced back at him over his shoulder.

 

“Come on up here and walk next to me, Credence,” he suggested.

 

It took Credence by surprise, but he found himself following the advice.

 

“Why?” he asked, even as he did just the thing Newt was asking of him.

 

“Someone I respect very much once told me to never walk in front of or behind somebody, if you can help it,” Newt explained. “Always walk right beside them, as their equal.”

 

Credence was both boggled and inspired by the sentiment. 

 

With that said, Newt turned his attention back towards the shelves, his gaze scanning their contents until he found what he was looking for.

 

“Ah,” he said with an air of triumph, as he reached out and grabbed a small bag of frozen peas. “This should do nicely.”

 

Credence raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Frozen peas?”

 

Newt nodded sagely. “You trust me, right?”

 

Credence nodded, and he almost surprised himself with how little he had to think about it. 

 

Newt grinned, and Credence fell into step alongside him as he made his way up towards the checkout. They passed by a large display of various chip products, and Newt nabbed a bag of Cheetos as they walked past it.

 

“A little something for Jacob,” he said, by way of explanation. 

 

Even more befuddling, and coming without an explanation, was the roll of duct tape that he also picked up on their way over. Credence elected not to ask, figuring that there was a method to Newt’s madness.

 

Newt handled all the business with the cashier, who either genuinely didn’t recognize Newt without his hat, or was just too apathetic to say anything about it. However, as Credence hovered near the register, he noticed a somewhat sullen-looking girl with curly red hair lurking around the corner of a nearby aisle, with her cell phone out. She was staring pointedly at them (well, mostly at Newt) while trying and utterly failing to be subtle.

 

“Hey,” Credence spoke up, a surprising authority in his voice as he addressed the girl. Her gaze settled on him, her expression shifting somewhere between complete contempt and paralyzing fear. “Don’t do that. Okay? That’s not cool. Cut it out, seriously.”

 

Though she was still glaring at him, the girl silently put her phone away and disappeared around the corner.

 

Newt glanced over towards Credence, giving him a grateful smile.

 

Once the purchase had concluded, the two of them headed back outside, finding a spot to sit by the parking lot to wait for Jacob to return.

 

“Alright, let’s see that hand again, shall we?” Newt requested, and once again Credence obliged happily. Newt pulled the package of frozen peas from the bag and wrapped it around Credence’s swollen, bruising hand. He winced slightly, but the icy cold did ease the pain a little.

 

“That helps,” he admitted. “Thanks, Newt.”

 

“Oh, don’t thank me just yet,” Newt cautioned, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He next produced the duct tape, and made a point of taping the bag of peas to Credence’s hand to hold it in place.

 

In spite of himself, Credence burst out laughing.

 

“What the...what am I supposed to do with this?!” he exclaimed through laughter, waving around his bag-of-peas hand like a pirate brandishing a sword.

 

Newt laughed right along with him. “Remember, you said you trust me,” he reminded him, half-teasingly. “Believe it or not, it’ll make a world of difference.”

 

Credence was inclined to believe him.

 

“Hopefully I don’t get any really good ideas for song lyrics,” he mused. “Won’t be able to write them down with this thing on my dominant hand.”

 

Newt chuckled. “You’re right, that is a problem,” he conceded, albeit with a smile still playing on his lips. “I think you’ll be alright for now, unless you plan on writing a song about me anytime soon.”

 

Despite his amusement, Credence shrugged. “I could,” he confessed. 

 

That peaked Newt’s intrigue. “Really?” he wondered aloud. “I don’t think anyone’s ever written a song about me before, come to think of it. What would it even sound like?”

 

Credence thought about it for a moment, his gaze wandering up towards the stars in the sky above their heads. Already, a tune was starting to surface in his mind.

 

_ Damn it, Scamander, you jinxed me. _

 

Credence started to hum softly, much to Newt’s surprise. His surprise, however, quickly melted away and became astonishment as Credence began to softly sing.

 

_ “Tell me something, boy, _

 

_ Are you tired trying to fill that void?” _

 

Even as the lyrics came tumbling out of his mouth, he was unsure if they were about Newt per se, or if they were really about himself. 

 

_ “Or do you need more? _

 

_ Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?” _

 

His voice was quiet, almost wistful. His eyes found their way back over towards Newt, who was gazing at him intently. The amused smile was gone from his face, and was replaced with an expression of pure awe and reverence. Like a man hearing the voice of God Himself.

 

Credence’s heart lurched in his chest.

 

_ “I’m...falling…” _

 

He had a feeling he wouldn’t need to write down these lyrics. Neither one of them would be forgetting them anytime soon. 

 

Newt’s arm came up to hover over Credence’s shoulders, an unspoken invitation. It was a feeling of immense relief for Credence to sink against his side, his eyes finding the sky again as his head fell onto Newt’s shoulder.

 

Credence’s voice became more of a whisper, though the musicality remained in it.

 

_ “And in the good times, I find myself longing _

 

_ For...change…” _

 

His breath caught in his throat, as he had to fight off the thought of his mother.

 

_ “And in the bad times...I fear myself…” _

 

He trailed off then and went silent, though his mind was still very much at work.

 

Newt couldn’t look away from Credence. He could feel his pain, his hardship, in his lyrics, and it filled his heart until it nearly burst. 

 

He wanted to kiss him. But he wouldn’t, not until Credence made the first move. If he ever wanted to.

 

Then something clicked into place in Credence’s mind. He was still far away, focused on the lyrics, oblivious to the way Newt was looking at him. All at once, the chorus that he had spent the last few weeks piecing together flooded into his mind again, and he lifted himself up from Newt’s side to stand from where they were sitting; turning towards Newt and singing out loud into the hollow emptiness of the parking lot at night.

 

_ “I’m off the deep end _

 

_ Watch as I dive in _

 

_ I’ll never meet the ground _

 

_ Crash through the surface…” _

 

His writing had ended there, but as he took a breath and looked straight at Newt again, the rest came to him as easily as the air in his lungs.

 

_ “Where they can’t hurt us…” _

 

As he looked deep into Newt’s green eyes, he knew that he was in so far over his head, and there was very likely no turning back from it.

 

_ “We’re far from the shallow now” _

 

The silence hung heavy after that, Credence’s voice still echoing all around them. Newt shifted forward where he was sitting.

 

“You’re a songwriter, Credence,” he said in a low whisper, almost conspiratorially.

 

Credence gave him a look of mock confusion. “I’m a what?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Newt murmured. “I won’t tell anyone. But you should know, I’m not terribly good at keeping secrets.”

 

Credence dissolved into laughter. He never wanted this night, this moment, to end; but almost as soon as he caught himself in the thought, the limousine reappeared and pulled over to them.

 

“We’re fuelled up!” Jacob announced, having rolled down the window to greet Newt and Credence. “Hop in, gents!”

 

The two did so, sharing a smile all the while. Despite their shared genial disposition, both of them were all too aware that their evening was beginning to draw to a close.

 

“Well, I’m sorry we didn’t get to take a proper walk, like I said we would,” Newt said. “But I dare say this evening has been absolutely wonderful regardless.”

 

Credence lay his head back against the headrest of the limo seat, smiling over at Newt. “I couldn’t agree more.”

 

“I suppose I’ll have to owe you one, won’t I, Credence?” Newt proposed, a smile of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“If you want,” Credence acquiesced, his smile widening little by little. “So...what are you going to be doing, after tonight?”

 

Newt had to think about it for a moment, and his heart sank as reality returned to him.

 

“I’m, uh...I’m flying out to L.A. in the morning,” he admitted softly, suddenly avoiding Credence’s gaze. 

 

Over the course of the evening, it had become surprisingly easy, all too easy, for Credence to forget that Newt was, in fact, an international superstar. Now this dream bubble was about to finally burst, and it would be back to his everyday life at last.

 

“Oh,” was all that he could say.

 

There was a silence, and it hung heavy with possibilities.

 

“Will I ever see you again?” Credence asked softly, when he mustered up enough courage to speak again.

 

Newt gave him an encouraging smile. “You never know,” he mused. Despite the uncertainty in the statement, it eased Credence’s mind just a little bit.

 

“At the very least,” Newt continued. “I do intend to keep my promise to Nagini, and personally see to it that you make it safely home.”

 

Just for a moment, Credence was able to ignore the instinctive flare of anxiety and fear that arose in the back of his mind, and instead imagined how Mary Lou would react upon seeing a stretch limousine pulling up outside her home.

 

With only the slightest twinge of guilt, the mental image made him crack a smile.

 

“Thank you, Newt,” he said simply. 

 

“So, where am I taking you?” Jacob piped up from the driver’s seat.

 

“Right, it’s, uh, 22 Salem Street,” Credence told him.

 

“Wow, that’s not too far from here, either,” Jacob observed. “Dang, kid, you live in a box.”

 

Credence huffed a soft laugh. “You have  _ no _ idea,” he murmured.

 

~

 

When the limo pulled up outside the Barebone abode, Credence didn’t dare to even look at what time it was. It wasn’t until he was actually in close proximity to his house that he felt that all-too-familiar feeling of fear and dread really settle into the pit of his stomach.

 

Would his mother be sitting awake, waiting for him? Demanding an explanation? Ready to dole out whatever punishment she had planned for him this time?

 

Even if she was already asleep, or he managed to slip past without her noticing, he would still inevitably have to face her the next day.

 

The bag of peas had been removed from his hand by that point, and his injured hand was still numb from the cold. But even then, his hands must have been shaking, because Newt reached over to take his uninjured one in a comforting grasp. It was the most forward move he had made throughout the entire night.

 

“Credence,” he whispered. “Are you alright?”

 

Credence lifted his head, and once again found himself gazing deeply into Newt’s open, honest eyes. 

 

“I’ll be okay,” he told him softly. “Newt...I can’t thank you enough. This whole night has been incredible, and I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”

 

Newt’s gaze softened. “Neither will I, Credence.”

 

In the moment, he didn’t know for sure if he would ever have the chance to see Credence again. But as he watched Credence gathering up both his belongings and his courage before he climbed out of the limousine and started up the driveway of his house, Newt felt the overwhelming desire to see Credence shine, like the star he was meant to be.

 

Hurriedly, Newt rolled down the window of the limo and poked his head out of it.

 

“Hey,” he called out, catching Credence’s attention.

 

With his backpack hanging over one shoulder, Credence turned and looked back towards Newt again.

 

“What?”

 

Newt smiled boyishly.

 

“I just wanted to take another look at you.”

 

In the height of moonlight, Credence felt comfortable letting himself unabashedly blush, unable to stop himself from smiling ear to ear. 

 

Somehow, it was exactly what he had needed to hear.

 

~

 

Newt watched Credence disappear into his house, and as the limo pulled away, he watched the house slowly grow smaller in the distance until it vanished from sight.

 

There was a lot that Credence was dealing with, a lot that he didn’t want to tell him about. Newt couldn’t blame him for that. 

 

But the wheels were already starting to turn in his mind. If he just left Credence behind, in that house, hiding his gift and his light from the world, he would never be able to live with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Of course, after it was first alluded to in chapter one, this chapter really begins to introduce Shallow, the most memorable song from A Star Is Born.)

**Author's Note:**

> (Newt's first cover song is, of course, Come Together by The Beatles, though I was mostly inspired by the Gary Clark Jr. and Junkie XL cover)


End file.
